A Hundred Miles to Hell
by anotherlostangel
Summary: After failing to close the gates of Hell, Sam and Dean find themselves joined by a mysterious stranger that isn't who they appear to be. Together, they find themselves facing a whole new, terrible problem.
1. When the Music's Over

_Asgard, a year ago…_

Loki stood before the man who, for all intensive purposes, was his father. His adopted father. He no longer called him father, not even Allfather. As far as he was concerned, he no longer had a father. He killed his biological father, Laufey, after tricking him into coming into Asgard under the guise of killing Odin while he was deep in Odinsleep; and the man he had always believed to be his father had betrayed him. Cast him aside, as if he were a second fiddle, favoring his own son, Loki's brother, Thor. He failed to tell him of his true heritage, that he was a Frost Giant, though malformed. Loki had to discover this knowledge on his own and he questioned Odin's motives ever since. In his mind, it explained everything. Odin could never let a Frost Giant sit on the throne of Asgard.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Loki?" Odin demanded, his voice booming with authority.

Loki did not respond immediately, opting instead to think of the perfect response and how it would be crafted. Truthfully, he did not believe he owed anyone an explanation, but he had to consider all the options and possible outcomes; he was not one to make rash decisions. As he thought of what he wanted to say, if anything, he felt the eyes of all those in the room on him. He looked up at his mother, the woman who had cared for him so, looking at him tearfully. Though many would believe him to be an emotionless, heartless monster, seeing her eyes welling with tears did break his heart. She was the only one who he did not want to ever hurt.

"I wanted to prove to you that I, too, could be great," he finally answered. "I was tired of living in the shadows of Thor. I felt invisible to you. I wanted you, Thor, and all of Asgard to see what kind of leader I could have been."

"I no longer know who you are," Odin responded, his voice laced with defeat.

This declaration had no affect on Loki. He continued to stand ramrod straight, with his head held up high. He was not going to be the cowering fool he was upon his defeat, when finally captured by his brother to be lead back to Asgard, handcuffed and muzzled like an animal.

"Likewise," Loki replied, boldly. He was taking quite a chance, as his fate rested entirely with the Allfather.

A tense silence crept over the room. Everyone was waiting to see what Loki's fate would be. Death? Imprisonment? Eternal sleep? Something else? Loki could see Odin contemplating, thinking carefully on how he would punish the man he had once considered a son; he could feel Thor's nervousness. Despite all that had transpired between the two, he knew Thor still cared for him deeply. And though he hated to admit it, he still cared for his brother, too. When he fell into the abyss, Thor was the only one who cried out for him.

"Loki, I don't know what to do with you," Odin finally stated, breaking the silence. "Your mother still regards you as a son, so I cannot in good conscience send you to your death and yet, I feel like imprisonment would be too good for you and perhaps too dangerous for us all, should you manage to find a way to escape."

He would be a liar if he were to say his heart wasn't pounding. Death was out, which was good, but so was imprisonment. What was left? If he were not standing before Odin, his mother, next to Thor, and in a room full of important Asgardians, he would have shuddered at the thought.

"Instead," his father declared, "you will be turned into a tree, on Midgard. The only way for you to retake your true form is if you can actually manage to find a human who will cry for you."

"Father-" Thor began, attempting to reason.

"Silence!" Odin interrupted, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. "My decision is final."

Loki felt like the air had been kicked out of him. He no longer could withhold his emotions as shock overcame his face. His breathing grew labored as he tried to grasp what was happening to him. He had barely heard his mother burst into tears. He hardly noticed the panic on his brother's face. A tree? _A tree?!_ His father was going to turn him into a Godforsaken _tree?!_ Before the panic could set in, however, before he could fully understand what was about to happen to him, he saw a bright light and suddenly, Asgard disappeared and his body was falling faster than the speed of light toward Midgard.

_Notes: I know that in the comics Loki was turned into a tree, I thought I would pay homage to that in my story, since it hasn't appeared in the movies (yet). How he will get out of it will be different, however._


	2. Heaven's Not Close to a Place Like This

_Sioux Falls, South Dakota, a year later…_

Dean had barely made it back to Sam in time to get him to stop the trials. He had lost his brother once, he was not going to lose him again. Not for this. He didn't give a damn about Hell, its gates, or whether they were open or shut. He couldn't bear to lose his brother. Dean didn't give a damn about himself, which is why he wanted to undergo these trials. He had always had a sneaking suspicion that there would be a catch - there always was one. He couldn't ask that of Sammy, though. He spent his life protecting his little brother, over his dead body was he going to let him die, let him trade his life to close the gates of Hell.

He had barely convinced Sam to not go through with the final trial. When he told his brother that he was going to die, his brother didn't seem to care. It hit Dean right to his core. When Sam told him what he confessed to, what his greatest sin was, his heart shattered into a million pieces. To think that Sam truly believed he had let him down - and that he had in some way reinforced this belief - broke his heart. For once in his miserable life, however, he was able to truly convey his feelings to the person that was most important to him. Dean told Sam that he could never let him down, that he loved him and had put him above all else. And no matter what anyone thought, he always had. Dean always had Sam's interests at heart, Sam was always priority one to him - no matter how it seemed.

Now there they were, in the dirt, collapsed next to the Impala in front of the abandoned church watching the sky fall before their eyes. They had no idea what was happening as they watched balls of fire fall from the sky. Dean could only guess that they were angels falling, what else could it be? He held his ailing brother in his lap, his eyes staring at the sky. He called for Castiel, but didn't get a response. _What could be going on?_ Dean thought, his heart pounding in his chest. _Why isn't Cas responding?_

"Don't worry, little brother," Dean said, attempting to comfort Sam. "We're going to get you help." He fought back the tears that were fighting so hard to break free. He couldn't let Sam see them, he had to try to stay calm for him.

Truth be told, he didn't know what he could do to help his brother and that killed him. What doctor would be able to cure this? No doctor had a specialty in the supernatural, none that he knew of. He couldn't sell his soul to a crossroads demon in exchange for his brother's well being; no crossroads demon would come within a hundred miles of either of them. He didn't know any witches and even if he did, he couldn't trust them. Bobby was dead. Ash was dead. Ellen and Jo were dead. Castiel was missing in action and he was possibly dead. This was way out of Kevin's realm. All their friends were dead, missing in action, or wouldn't have the slightest clue, either. There was no one to turn to, there was nothing he could do. He knew it; Sam probably knew it, too.

Dean took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give up on Sammy, not now. They had to get somewhere safe. Somewhere where they could lay low until this…storm or whatever it was passed over. Once they were somewhere safe, Dean could start thinking about what to do, how he could help Sam.

"Come on, Sammy, I gotcha," Dean said, hoisting his brother up. He dragged him to the passenger side of the Impala. Just then a giant ball of fire crashed into the Earth, only a few feet from where they were. Dean's eyes widened in terror and he could feel Sam's muscles tense. He quickly opened the Impala's door and deposited his sickly brother into the passenger seat. "We're getting the hell outta here!" Dean exclaimed as he slammed the passenger side door shut.

He climbed into the driver's seat and turned the engine of the Impala that had served them so well throughout the years on. He threw the car into reverse and pealed out of there. Dean didn't know what was going on and he didn't want to stick around to find out. Most of the angels he had ran across, with few exceptions, were dicks. They'd probably be even worse after being cast from Heaven.


	3. I've Been Waiting for You

_Somewhere in South Dakota, Midgard…_

Loki had been in the form of a tree for a year now. He had no idea where he was, all he knew was he had fallen in quite a desolate area. He seldom saw a living soul. Once in a while he would see the occasional hiker or hunter who had traveled off the beaten path. Odin had picked quite the punishment for him, as he found himself in quite the predicament. Though he could project his voice, he only had done so once before and the results had been disastrous. The young couple – his first mistake – thought they were hearing things and finally surmised that the forest was "haunted." _Humans are such imbeciles,_ he thought with contempt as he had watched the couple wander off talking about getting some foolish television show about people who hunt ghosts to come investigate the forest. He had decided it would be best to wait for the right person who was alone to make another attempt at communication.

He had hoped this would occur in a timely fashion, but it hadn't. He kept his spirits up by tripping the occasional humans he would see with his enormous roots or slapping one in the face with a branch. Loki also bided his time by devising a new plan to wreak havoc upon this mortal world once he was back in his normal state. Patience was a virtue of his, after all. Some may think his only one.

As the seasons changed and the months passed, however, he could feel despair creeping up on him. Would he ever get out of this quandary? Would he be doomed to a life – if one could even call it that – of timber and foliage? Loki kept such thoughts at bay, however. He always told himself that humans were stupid creatures and he would find one dumb enough to cry for him using his superior intellect and guile; it was just a matter of time.

* * *

Dean had found an abandoned cabin for him and Sam to lay low in. There was no way they could make it back to the bunker in Kansas in the condition Sam was in. It was at times like these that Dean had wished Bobby were still alive. It was also during times like these that he wished Castiel would respond to his calls. He had called his old angelic friend numerous times in the days since the sky had fallen. He even tried praying to him, but to no avail. He even tried Cas's old cell phone number, but all he had gotten was that tired old "this number is no longer in service" message. _Where could he be?_ Dean asked himself that on a daily basis.

The day was turning to night. Dean had rarely left the cabin or Sam's side since they had gotten there, leaving only for the necessities. Sam was in and out of consciousness and he had a slight fever, but at least he was stable. He raked his brain for possible solutions to Sam's current state, but each time had come up empty. His only option, as he saw it, was to just take Sam to the hospital – admit defeat and hope there is something medicine could do to help his baby brother.

Dean sat at the rickety old table looking at Sam and drinking whiskey. He cursed himself in his mind for not being able to help his brother, for not even having any possible solutions. _Sam would know what to do,_ Dean thought. _It should be me laying there, not him. He'd be able to think of something to at least try._

He sat back in his seat, the old chair creaking as he did. He was going stir crazy in this musty old cabin. What Dean needed was some fresh air, beyond just making a quick run to the store. He needed to get out of this cabin for a bit and stretch his legs, but if something were to happen to Sam while he were away, he'd never forgive himself. He just couldn't sit around the cabin any longer. Sitting on the front stairs or on the back stairs wasn't enough, either; he had tried that before. It worked for a short time, but he just needed to get out for a while, really clear his head.

Dean got up from his seat and stood next to the bed Sam was laying in. "Sam," he whispered, nudging his unconscious brother lightly. This didn't cause Sam to even stir. Concerned, Dean checked for a pulse and breathing, when he felt a heartbeat on his fingertips and air on the palm of his hand, relief swept over him. He tried to wake his brother once more, but no such luck. He quietly placed Sam's cell phone on the nightstand next to the bed and quickly scribbled a note of his temporary departure. _I hope I get reception wherever it is I end up,_ Dean thought to himself and semi-praying to a God he hardly believed in. He swore to himself he wouldn't be out long. He would just go and walk until he was refreshed and then return to the cabin and Sammy's side.

* * *

Loki was enjoying a pleasant breeze through his branches when he heard the familiar sounds of footsteps on the dirt path. Excitement spread through him as he thought of the possibilities – could this finally be the right person? From a distance he saw a man walking alone. Even from the breadth between him and the lone human he could sense the man's desperation and sadness. Loki tingled with anticipation, knowing deep down that this was the one he had been waiting for to cross his path. He knew instantly just how to gain this pitiful man's trust.

It had been a half hour since Dean had began his journey from the cabin. He had found a fading path leading to the woods from the cabin's property and decided to stay on it, making it easier to get back. Even though this is what he desperately had needed, he still found himself racked with guilt over leaving Sam alone. Dean had grown frustrated with himself, what was supposed to have been a refreshing walk had turned into a one man debate over whether he should feel guilty about leaving his brother alone or not. Dean had tried pushing it out of his mind when he thought he had heard something. He stopped dead in his tracks, waiting to see if he would hear the sound again.

"Over here," the soft voice of a woman said, quietly.

Dean looked around. He didn't see anyone in the woods. His heart began to pound in his chest. He of all people knew what was out there and most of it wasn't very nice – especially to a hunter like him. He was in the midst of considering making a mad dash back to the cabin for his brother, when the voice spoke up once again, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Where are you?" Dean asked, still looking for someone or something in the woods.

"I'm right in front of you," the woman answered.

Dean looked and saw nothing but a giant tree surrounded by smaller trees. "Uh, all I see is a tree…" he replied, his voice laced with confusion.

_This dunce is supposed to be my salvation?_ Loki thought to himself in frustration. Being the master tactician that he was, however, he did not let it sound through his disguised voice. He also reminded himself that this man's stupidity was something that he could use against him. At least he hadn't run off yet. "Then you're looking at me," he said, impersonating a woman's voice.

"You're…a tree?" Dean asked, puzzled. He had seen a lot of things, done a lot of things, and heard a lot of things in his life – things that no normal person would ever believe – but never before had he came across a talking tree. He began to wonder if he was in an M. Night Shyamalan movie.

"For now," the tree responded. "What's your name?"

"Why?" Dean hesitated.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to answer a question with a question?"

"My mother died when I was four," Dean stated sternly. It was a still a sore subject for him, even after all these years and killing the bastard that had killed her.

There was a moment of silence between the two. Loki had touched a nerve, and while he didn't care about the silly human's feelings, he was in need of this man's help. "Oh," he finally said. "I'm sorry to hear that."

His simple apology seemed to work. The man's face softened and he seemed to calm down a little. "Why do you want to know my name?" Dean inquired.

"I thought that's what people did when they first meet each other," Loki stated simply.

Dean was hesitant to answer this tree's questions. He still contemplated making a mad dash back to the cabin, getting his brother, getting in the Impala, and just taking off. "My name's Dean," he finally answered, deciding it was a harmless thing to squabble over, even with a talking tree. "What's yours?"

"My name is Lola," the woman's voice stated, matter-of-factly. "Dean, I'll be honest with you, I could use your help."

"Always a catch," Dean said under his breath.

"I'm not really a tree," Lola continued. "My wicked sister cursed me and put me in this predicament." Loki wasn't completely lying, but he still felt a touch ridiculous saying it. Then again, his present companion probably felt a bit ridiculous talking with a tree.

Dean laughed breathily. "Your evil sister curses you and puts you in this bind and you think I can help you out of it? What gives you that impression? I'm just a regular guy, not the Wizard of Oz."

"You stopped to talk to me," Lola pointed out.

Dean sighed, considered her point, and then nodded in agreement. "Fair enough, but I've got enough of my own problems, my brother is sick, and honestly, I don't know how to…_untree_ someone." Internally, Dean kicked himself for even mentioning he had a brother. Then again, most things that go bump in the night knew him and knew about Sam, too.

"It's really quite simple," Lola said. Loki could feel freedom at his proverbial fingertips. "All you have to do is cry for me."

"Cry for you?"

"Just shed a single tear, that's all."

Dean laughed, dryly. "Why would I want to do that?" He asked between laughs.

"Because you need me," Lola said. Internally, Loki seethed at this mere mortal daring to laugh at his dilemma.

"Need you for what?" Dean asked, incredulity in his voice.

"Your sick brother," Lola answered. "I can heal him."

Dean didn't respond to Lola's offer. He had learned the hard way that things that were too good to be true often were. He didn't know who or what he was talking to and already they want to get into a quid pro quo situation. Dean may be desperate to save Sam, but he's not that desperate. "Find someone else to cry for you," Dean said and turned and left, walking as fast as he could.

Loki laughed to himself. When the mortal had mentioned his brother, he could feel the man's desperation. Loki knew all the man's internal conflict was tied around his sick brother. He knew the man would return, just as he knew the sun would rise the following morning. Then Loki would be free once more.


	4. A River of Tears

Dean had hardly slept the night before. Aside from the fact that he was stuck sleeping on the hard, wooden floor, he couldn't get the conversation with that tree out of his mind. He had spent most of that day thinking about it, too. No matter how much he had tried not to think about it, though, it kept creeping into his thoughts. He kept brushing the idea aside, believing he and Sam were probably better off without the assistance of some…being or force stuck in a tree. He didn't know when the other shoe would drop or what else he or Sam stood to lose if he had entered into such a deal. He had once sold his soul to a crossroads demon to save Sam and a year later he was dead; a lot of good that had done Sam. He wasn't about to unleash who knows what on the world only to have to end up fighting it and die again or have Sam die.

Still, Dean would be sitting at the table and he would look out the cabin's window and see that faded little path and that tree would enter his mind again. Again, he would debate himself on the subject, listing out every reason why he shouldn't go back to that tree and do whatever was necessary to free the trapped woman. _If only Cas were here!_ Dean thought to himself. If he hadn't known any better, he would almost think someone or something was putting this train of thought into his head.

Sam stirring in bed interrupted Dean's thoughts. Without hesitating, he was out of his seat and at his brother's side. He noted the increase of sweat on Sam's skin. Dean placed the back of his hand on his brother's forehead. His heart sank as he felt the heat of Sam's skin; the slight fever wasn't so slight anymore.

"Dean…" Sam said softly, looking up at his older brother. He winced in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning.

"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean replied instantly.

"I-I-I'm not doing so good," Sam stuttered, pain sounding in his voice. "I-I…just take me to a hospital."

"If your fever keeps going the way it is, we're going to have to," Dean agreed.

_What good is a hospital going to do? Can they really help him? You know there is real help for your brother and it's not in any hospital…_ A voice said in his head. Dean swore it was his voice, but he felt strange about this sudden thought, this voice, or whatever, just…appearing out of thin air. He found himself thinking about that fucking tree once again.

"What's on your mind, Dean?" Sam asked, a look of concern on his face.

Dean snapped out of it when Sam questioned him. He didn't know what he could possibly tell his brother. That a voice that sounded exactly as his own had just entered his mind? That he had had a conversation with a tree the day before? That he couldn't get this deal with the mysterious being out of his head? He knew Sam wouldn't approve of any deals and would find a talking tree wanting help in exchange for curing Sam of his ailments suspect.

"Uh, nothing," he lied, smiling and chuckling in an attempt to cover that fact. "Just worried about you, is all."

"Bullshit," Sam said, pointedly.

"It's nothing," Dean replied, trying to brush it off.

Sam looked at Dean, skepticism painted across his face. "You're lying," he stated with a cough.

Dean sighed. He hated himself for ever considering it, for even letting it enter his mind as much as it had, but seeing Sam's condition worsen had made him reconsider his stance on freeing the tree. Before he could answer, however, Sam began to have a seizure.

"Sam!" He cried out in shock.

Dean stood next to the bed and watched helplessly as his little brother's body convulsed in the bed. The tears that he had been holding back for so long had finally started to make their way to the surface and down his cheeks. There was nothing he could do for his little brother, the only family he had left; hell, the only _friend_ he had left, really.

The seizure passed as quickly as it came. Sam was lying unconscious in bed once more. He looked out the window and saw the faded little path calling his name. The sun was setting once more, if he was going to find that tree, he knew he had to leave now.

"Sorry about this, little brother," Dean whispered to Sam. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed the flashlight off of the table and then ran out the door and toward the path.

* * *

Dean ran through the woods, frantically searching for the tree he had spoken to only yesterday. He rummaged through his memories, hoping for even the tiniest mental snapshot of what this tree had looked like. All he could come up with was that it was big, bigger than the rest of the trees around it.

He came to a stop, trying to catch his breath. He didn't know how long he had been running for. There was hardly any natural light left, as the sun had almost completely set. Dean began to feel the familiar feeling of defeat overtake him. He cursed himself for running when he had walked the day before. He paced back and forth for a moment, trying to remember anything from that day, anything at all. Had he ran far enough? Had he ran too far? Dean didn't even know.

"Where are you?!" He shouted into the horizon, his voice echoing in the emptiness. He felt the burn in his eyes as the tears were fighting their way out once more. He shook his head, steeling himself. He was going to find this tree if it was the last thing he did, even if he had to search all night for it.

Dean continued on the path in the same direction. He didn't know why he had decided to continue on in that direction, why he hadn't backtracked a little; he suddenly just had an overwhelming feeling that he was heading in the right way. He turned his flashlight on and waved its beam onto the various trees whose path he crossed. All the trees looked the same in what little light he had. _Dad would be real proud of me,_ Dean thought, scolding himself. _I'm a dumbass who walked into the woods at night without any provisions except for a fucking flashlight. You're a damn genius, Dean Winchester!_

"I thought I'd never see you again," a woman's voice stated simply. Loki had been right, the man had returned. He couldn't afford to gloat, however, no matter how badly he had wanted to.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing the familiar voice. He shined his flashlight on the tree and instantly recognized it. Inside, Dean didn't think he would have ever been so happy to see a tree in his entire life.

"What are you?" Dean instantly demanded.

"Right now, I'm a tree," she answered calmly.

"No, when you're not a tree," Dean said. "Are you a demon? A witch? Angel? What?"

"I'm a witch," she replied.

"A witch, huh?" He said with a dry chuckle. "So what, you watched The Craft one too many times in high school or something?"

Loki seethed with rage at the mortal's flippant remarks. "I'm not some foolish teenager who read a book on witchcraft and then decided to get into it to get the popular guy in school to like me," she hissed. "I'm the real deal. I was born a witch."

"How do I know you're not going to screw me over once I get you out of your little dilemma?" Dean asked. "How do I know you're not going to plant a hex bag somewhere and use it to kill me, my brother, or both of us?"

"I'm a good witch," she responded. "I cannot do harm."

"So, if you're a good witch, remind me why you're a tree again?"

"My sister, who is not so nice, cursed me. She was jealous of me and my powers, so she turned me into a tree to get me out of her way." Loki was careful to keep his lies simple, yet believable.

"So, you're Glenda and she's the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"If you want to put it that way, yes." _This is becoming tedious,_ Loki thought to himself.

Dean still had scruples. All he had was the word of this witch. For all he really knew, she was the evil sister and she had been made into a tree as a form of punishment. Maybe she wasn't even really a witch at all. Suddenly, an image of his sick brother flashed in his mind. Misgivings be damned, he felt like he had no other choice.

"So I have to cry for you?" Dean asked, breaking the silence.

"Just a single tear, that is all," she answered. Loki could hardly contain his excitement. If this human would just shed a single tear for him, he would be free once more.

Dean nodded his head. "I think I can manage that," he said. He inhaled deeply and started to think of his brother, of Bobby, of all the people they had lost along the way. Moments later, he could feel the tears welling in his eyes and dropping down his face. As they dropped, he waited for something to happen – for the wind to blow, for the sky to light up, something; some sign that would show it was working.

"Nothing's happening!" He exclaimed in frustration, his cheeks wet from his tears, his eyes bulging with anger.

"You have to cry _for me,_ Dean!" She said sternly. "Not for your brother or yourself or anyone else. _For me._"

Dean's eyes narrowed as he sucked in his breath. He wiped his face with his sleeve, the wetness of his tears making his skin tingle. He didn't have the faintest clue how he was going to cry for someone – some being – he didn't even know. For Sammy, he sure was going to give it his best shot.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. Instead of doubting the sincerity of the witch's story, he gave her the benefit of the doubt, choosing to believe her. He thought about how she was betrayed by her sister, someone she must have loved. How she had been forced to live as a tree for who knows how long, unable to get herself out of the predicament. He thought about how most humans wouldn't believe what they were hearing when they ran across a talking tree and would run for the hills.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dean finally managed to squeeze a few tears out. He knew without a doubt that those tears were for her and not for anyone else. He slowly opened up his eyes, unsure of what he would see.

As Loki watched the human cry for him, he could start to feel the changes occurring; they were ever so slight, but it was happening. Relief and joy spread through him. _It was so simple!_ He thought to himself excitedly with a maniacal laugh.

"Well, I cried-" Dean began, interrupted by a sudden gust of wind. A green fog began to surround the tree, he watched as it curled around the tree's trunk toward the top. This green fog completely encased the tree. Dean stood back, unsure of what was about to happen, unsure of what the green fog would do to him if it were to touch him. He found himself backed up against another tree. The wind was gusting so strongly, he could hardly stand up; becoming so strong that it had knocked him to the ground. Dean thought he had suddenly found himself in the midst of a tornado.

Just as soon as the winds had begun and the green fog had appeared, it was over. There stood a woman where the tree had been. He could only make her shape out in the darkness from where he was laying. Dean got to his feet as the woman walked toward him. Up close and under the moonlight, he could see her beauty. She had long dark hair, a strong chin, and the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life. It was as if they were glowing in the night. She was the kind of girl Dean always wanted to take home with him when he went out to the bars.

"Thank-you," she said with smile.

"Yeah, well, it's time for you to scratch my back now," Dean replied, feeling the urgency of his brother's situation. "My brother is doing worse than he was before."

"Show me the way," she stated.

Dean began to walk briskly down the trail. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't any time left for conversation. He had left Sam alone for long enough and it was time he made his new acquaintance live up to her end of the deal. He could feel her on his heels, the ground crunching under their footsteps as they made their way back to the abandoned cabin.


	5. Under the Serious Moonlight

Loki followed Dean as they quickly made their way through the woods, smiling to himself. His subtle use of mind control had worked on the foolish human. He hadn't been relentless, he didn't want Dean to suspect a thing; but he had kept the man's thoughts on him just enough that when the tipping point came, he had come running. Loki also prided himself on his brilliant disguise, this pitiful fool had no idea what he had done or who he had freed.

"Here we are," Dean stated with urgency, without coming to a stop. He hardly even turned to look towards his female companion.

Dean started to jog toward the cabin, the anticipation of his little brother being cured too much to bear. He hoped that his brother was still alive. The beautiful stranger hadn't said anything about being able to bring dead people back to life. Even if she could, he wasn't certain she would – at least not without making another deal, and who knows what that would be.

"Sam!" Dean called out as he burst through the back door of the cabin. His heart pounded when he failed to get a response. He raced to Sam's side to check his vital signs, holding his breath as he waited to see if he was still alive. He exhaled in relief when he felt a faint heartbeat and felt shallow bursts of air on the palm of his hand.

"Is all well?" Lola asked with concern.

Dean nodded his head. "Do whatever it is you have to do, just make him better," Dean demanded. "That was the deal."

"Stand back," she ordered, stepping toward the bed. Loki looked down at the sickly man lying before him. He momentarily wondered what had happened to this young man to bring him to such a state. He also began to wonder if he actually could cure this man or if he would just welch on his deal and kill both of them. While the latter would certainly be simpler, he opted to at least try to keep his end of the bargain. These two could be useful to him in the future.

He placed a hand on the sick man's forehead. He quickly withdrew his hand from the heat. Loki was no doctor; he wasn't even human, but he knew that not many beings could survive such a fever. Until he could figure out exactly what to do, he decided to simply lower the ailing man's temperature. Loki extended his arm and watched it turn blue, showing his true being as a Frost Giant. He placed his ice-cold hand just above the man's forehead. He watched the coldness travel down the human's body, the man's skin. It was a new capability he had learned while he stayed in a previously unknown part of the universe. It took everything within him to not burst into a rage at having to do this, as it reminded him of his real heritage. If he was going to save this man, however, he had to keep his temperature down.

"Well?" Dean asked expectantly as Lola lifted her hand from his brother's forehead.

"He'll be fine for now," Lola answered, simply. "I've cooled his body down so the fever won't kill him, but he'll be comatose for a while. It'll give me enough time to figure out a permanent solution to his ailment."

"You said you could fix him!" Dean shouted angrily. "Putting him in some…_frost state_ doesn't seem like much of a cure to me!"

"_It'll do for now!_" Lola hissed. "I said I would fix him and _I will_. But this isn't the common cold or pneumonia, you simpleton! I don't know what it is; and without knowing what happened, there isn't much I can do for him at the moment _but_ cool his temperature."

Dean didn't respond to Lola. He simply glared at her in anger. He knew there wasn't anything he could do and if he argued any further, this witch could simply pop smoke on he and Sam and leave them in a further bind. He sighed and took a seat at the rickety old table.

"So what do we do?" He finally asked, pouring himself some whiskey.

"Well, first it would be a good idea to tell me what you and your brother got yourselves into that got him in this state," Lola answered, taking a seat across from her human acquaintance.

Dean nodded his head, took a large gulp from his tumbler, and began telling Lola about the recent events. He filled her in on how the found a tablet that could close the gates of Hell, the tribulation of getting the tablet translated, and the trials. He told her about Metatron, how he had stopped Sam from completing the final trial because he didn't want his little brother to die. He told her everything he could possibly think of up until the time he went to see her when she was still in the form of a tree.

Dean looked at his watch, it was almost midnight by the time he had finished talking. He polished off the last of the whiskey that was in his tumbler. Despite it all, he hadn't drank that much, he wasn't even buzzed.

"So how long is he gonna be in a coma for?" Dean asked.

"Until the cold wears off, a few days," she replied.

"How long is it going to take you to find a cure?"

"It shouldn't take that long, a day or two."

Loki would really have to rake his knowledge of sorcery for this one. He would figure something out, though, he always did. For a fleeting moment, Loki found himself wishing for his mother. She would know what to do without hesitation. She was very knowledgeable about healing magic, something he had no use for. Loki shook is head briefly, pushing the memory of his mother out of his mind.

"Is everything ok?" Dean inquired.

"Oh, yes," she replied, seemingly snapping out of a deep thought, "everything is fine."

"Well, if you want, you can stay here until Sam is cured," Dean offered. "But after that, you're on your own."

She nodded her head understandingly. Her eyes glanced over the room; she only saw only the bed Sam was lying in and a sleeping bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Where am I to sleep?" She asked, finally.

"The floor," he responded.

"I gathered that much," she quickly retorted. "Blankets and such accouterments would be nice."

"Yeah, I suppose," Dean said, rising from his seat. "I'll go get them from the car."

Dean walked out of the cabin and headed toward the Impala. He was suddenly overcome by an uneasy feeling, as if something wasn't right. It was a feeling he had felt many times before and he knew better than to ignore it. His eyes lifted toward the sky and they widened in fear when he saw the long, black clouds heading in his direction. Demons. He forgot about the sleeping bag and made a mad dash for the cabin.

"_Shit!_" He shouted, as he burst through the cabin door, slamming and locking it behind him. He rushed toward his duffel bag.

"What's going on?" Lola asked, alarmed.

"Demons!" Dean responded, rifling through his duffel bag, looking for the salt. _Of all the fucking things I left in the car!_ He thought, cursing himself for not bringing everything he would need into the cabin when they first arrived. Dean wasn't totally out of luck, however. He had at least brought in a shotgun and Ruby's knife.

"Do you know how to use a shotgun?" He queried.

"No," she replied. "I'm good with knives, though."

Despite his panic, Dean stopped long enough to think about the decision he was facing. Should he trust this stranger with Ruby's knife? He didn't have much time to really debate the issue, as the ground began to shake as the demons landed nearby.

"Here," he finally said, thrusting the knife into Lola's hand. "I want that back if we live through this."

"We will," Lola said definitively.

_Notes: I took some artistic liberties with one of Loki's powers._


	6. The World is a Vampire

Dean looked at Lola with some surprise as he readied himself for the coming attack. They had nothing but Ruby's knife, a shotgun full of shells filled with salt, and some holy water. _She better be damn good with knives,_ Dean thought. He stole one last glance at his comatose brother; he was in one hell of a position here and he worried the demons knew it, too. Before he could be overcome with all his worries and concern, the front door burst open, followed by the backdoor of the cabin.

Loki wasted no time in getting to the backdoor and killed whatever it was that had come through. He sliced the demon with the knife in an upward motion – from its abdomen to the chest. He watched it's eyes light up and flicker as the possessed human body fell at his feet. Sensing another behind him and noting Dean's position from the corner of his eye, he swiftly twirled around, slicing the second demon's throat. It, too, fell to the ground, eyes flickering.

Dean soon found himself out of shotgun shells. The salt hurt the demons enough that it kept them at bay, preventing them from hurting him or his brother, but it wasn't killing them or exorcising them. He did notice that his new-found partner was killing the demons he had been shooting with Ruby's knife, as well as any others that were making their way into the cabin. _She is good with a knife,_ Dean noted to himself quickly, as he discharged his last shell into a demon.

"Shit!" He muttered to himself as he turned the shotgun into a useless baseball bat. He slammed the butt of the shotgun into the head of another attacking demon. It gave him just enough room to maneuver toward another position, to where he had put the holy water.

Before he could make it to his stash of holy water, however, he found himself slammed against the wall at the other end of the cabin. He stuck there for a moment, but found himself freed as Lola had killed the demon that was holding him there. As he got back to his feet, about to deal with the demon he had butt stroked to the face with his shotgun, he watched Lola drive Ruby's knife into the back of the demon's skull.

"Hopefully, that's all of them," Lola stated bluntly, as she surveyed the room filled with dead bodies.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, catching his breath. "I'll take that back now." He said, snatching Ruby's knife from her hand and then used a shirt of one of the dead demons to clean the blade.

"You're welcome," Lola replied, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

Before the pair could celebrate their victory, however, they heard the sound of clapping at the front door. Dean tensed up, knowing it was yet another demon. "Bravo!" She said, a smirk plastered across her face. "You should really show your little friend here more gratitude. You'd likely be dead right now if it weren't for her."

"Who are you?" Dean asked with a sneer.

"Oh, Dean, you hurt my feelings," the woman said, making a pouting face. "I suppose you wouldn't recognize me in my new meat suit, though. …I'm Abaddon, do you remember me now?"

Dean sucked in his breath at the sound of the demon's name. He cursed himself for leaving her alone when he and Sam had tried to use her as a test for curing a demon. "I suppose you're here to kill us," Dean stated, somewhat sarcastically.

Loki stood next to Dean, preparing himself for anything. He hadn't even had to do anything and already his plan was coming to fruition. Although he had long known of the existence of demons, he had never actually run across one. He found them to be rather pompous and irritating creatures now that he had. Loki found himself fighting the grin that wanted to surface upon his disguised face. He couldn't have asked for a better person to free him from his plight.

"You guessed right," Abaddon said, grinning.

Loki watched Dean fly against the wall once more, the knife falling from his hand as he hit the wall. He readied himself for a fight, turning his attention back toward this demon called Abaddon. He noted the slight look of shock on her face. He deduced that she had intended for him to fly against the wall, as well.

"What's the matter?" Lola asked. "Was I supposed fly into a wall, too?"

Loki watched Abaddon's confident facial expression turn to a scowl. She moved further into the cabin, preparing for a physical confrontation. The two danced around each other for a moment, waiting to see who would make the first move and who would respond. If Thor was a boxer, Loki was a chess player. Every move he made, every decision he made, was calculated. He made up for some of his physical weaknesses with his intelligence and sorcery. Most who have fought him had underestimated him; therefore, they never seen him coming when he did.

Dean watched Abaddon lunge at Lola. Before Abaddon got too close, however, a burst of golden lightning appeared, knocking Abaddon back and off of her feet. Lola's foe didn't stay down for long, though. She sprang back to her feet and was charging Lola once more when suddenly Lola disappeared into thin air. Abaddon stopped, mid-stride.

Dean held his breath, waiting and hoping for Lola's return. His heart pounded in his chest as the seconds passed without Lola re-emerging. Abaddon seemed to pause, wondering what act two was going to be, but when Lola didn't reappear, she turned her attention back to Dean.  
"Well," Abaddon began with a sadistic smile on her face, "where were we?"

"Go fuck yourself, you demonic bitch," Dean replied, his voice raspy with discomfort.

"You're such a charmer," Abaddon said with a laugh. "I'm going to have so much fun torturing you to death. But first, I think I'm going to make you watch me kill your brother."

Dean shut his eyes; he wasn't going to watch his brother die. He held back the tears of rage and sadness that were fighting their way to the surface as he made a futile struggle to free himself from Abaddon's hold. The bitterness of betrayal stung his heart. He helped this stranger who was in quite a predicament and they betrayed him; it was the story of his life. Before he could wallow in his sadness and anger any longer, however, he found his eyes being forced open. He desperately tried to close them, or to at least blink, but found he was unable to.

"I said you're going to watch me kill-" Abaddon had started; she was interrupted by a golden bolt of lightning striking her in the back. She had been turned to stone before his very eyes.

"I thought you left me," Dean said breathlessly, climbing back to his feet.

"I knew the only way to end this fight was by surprise," Lola replied. "We must hurry and be on our way, though, the spell won't last for long."

Dean nodded his head and got to packing. He relished the sweet feeling of relief. Just as he thought he had been betrayed, he was proven wrong. This seemed to seldom be the outcome for he and his brother. Still, something deep down bothered him about Lola, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"I thought you said you were a good witch," Dean stated, breaking the silence. "That you couldn't do harm."

Lola looked at him in his eyes, not responding immediately. "I didn't do harm," she finally answered.

"You killed a bunch of demons and turned one to stone," Dean pointed out.

"Killing something that is about to do another harm is not evil, it's defense. If someone was trying to kill you, are you telling me your country would put you in prison for daring to defend yourself?"

"Fair point," Dean shrugged.

Loki could tell that Dean wasn't entirely sold with his explanation. He knew he had to be careful and he needed Dean to believe his cover story, at least until they went their separate ways. While he could easily dispatch Dean and Sam if the need were to arise, he would rather avoid it. He needed to minimize the risk of his freedom being noticed on Asgard. Should Odin or his bumbling brother, Thor, find out he was no longer confined to being a tree, he was certain they would do whatever it took to imprison him once again – or worse.

"I don't think you fully understand witches," Lola said. "Just because I'm a good witch doesn't mean I can't use my magic to kill someone else in the defense of another. I just can't use my magic to kill for fun or for my own benefit."

"Yeah, well, I have never met a 'good witch,'" Dean said.

"We do exist, Dean. Most good witches don't expose themselves to people because we're afraid of being persecuted."

"'Never again, the burning times,' right?" Dean responded with a smile and a breathy laugh.

Lola smiled in response. They had put the last of the belongings in the Impala. All that was left was Sam. The pair walked back into the cabin and looked over the damage – bodies were everywhere. Abaddon was still a stone structure standing next to the bed Sam was in, her mouth agape, face twisted with hatred and rage.

Dean sighed, heavily. "How long is she going to be like that?"

Lola looked at the statue of Abaddon with concern. "If we leave now, we'll be a few hours ahead of her before the spell wears off."

"I don't think we'll have time to clean up this mess," Dean stated, his voice fraught with worry. "And the last thing we need is for the average person to stumble upon this, they'll think it's the scene of a mass murder."

"Leave the mess to me," Lola said. "You get your brother in the car."

"Deal," Dean agreed, making his way toward the bed.

Loki watched as Dean struggled to get his brother's limp, frozen body out of the cabin. Once they were outside and he was certain he was out of Dean's sight, he knelt before a demon he had killed. He pulled out a small vile from his pocket and cut a small incision on the slain demon's skin. He used the vile to collect the blood and quickly slipped the vile back into his pocket as he heard the door of the Impala slam shut. He stood and with a simple wave of his hand, the dead bodies disappeared. Only Abaddon was left, standing before an empty bed.

"You ready?" Dean asked, walking back into the cabin. His eyes widened with surprise at the cleanliness of the scene. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

The pair made their way out to the car, silently getting into their respective seats. The engine of the Impala roared to life and they were off, heading toward a destination that was anywhere but where they were.


	7. Separate Ways

_A few days later; Lebanon, Kansas…_

Dean had driven the six and half hours from the Sioux Falls area to Lebanon, Kansas with nothing more than a break to use the bathroom and check on his brother's condition. As always, he had avoided the interstate, choosing the back roads of America instead. In between bouts of listening to music, the two companions of circumstance found themselves trading histories, neither going into too great of detail.

Dean hadn't liked the idea of bringing a total stranger – and a witch, at that – to the bunker, but he couldn't think of a better or safer place to go. He just had to bite the bullet and hope for the best. Thus far, the demons and the things that went bump in the night didn't know about it. When Sam got better, he was certain that he wouldn't hear the end of it. He hoped his little brother would come to understand that he had no other choice.

* * *

Loki was somewhat amazed at the rather extensive library these two buffoons had. It paled in comparison to his old one that he had had in Asgard, but it was a decent little library, none-the-less. He was also pleasantly surprised to find they had a nice little section dedicated to Norse mythology and magic. It was just what he needed if he was going to uphold his end of the bargain.

He had settled into a cushy chair at the fine, wooden table and had surrounded himself with books. He was skimming through one, sipping the horrible tea his host had made for him, when he stumbled upon the cure, something called Runed Tonic. It seemed very obscure, he wasn't entirely sure his mother even knew of it. However, from its description, he knew it was just what he was looking for.

On his way to find Dean to tell him of what he had found, he crossed a room with a closed door that suddenly had piqued his interest. He tried the handle, but found the door to be locked. With a simple flick of his wrist, he unlocked the door. The room was large and filled with shelving units; boxes and various other items adorned the shelves. Loki felt like a kid in a candy store, as if he had just hit the jackpot. Perhaps he would find what he needed in this very room – and not just the ingredients for the Runed Tonic, either.

He quickly and quietly rifled through the shelves, looking for objects that could be of use to him. He had found plenty. Not just the ingredients necessary for Sam's potion, but also ingredients for the other potion he intended to make when he ditched his companions.

"What are you doing in here?" A deep, husky voice questioned, interrupting his thoughts.

Lola stared at Dean in surprise, uncertain of how to respond. "Well, I finally found the cure for Sam," she answered. "I just came in here to see if you had the necessary ingredients."

"Well, do we?" Dean asked. Lola couldn't tell if he had bought her story, even if it wasn't a complete lie.

"Yes."

"What are you waiting for, then? An invitation?"

With that, Dean had turned and head for the door. Loki narrowed his eyes in anger before following. _Uncouth little ingrate,_ he thought to himself in contempt.

* * *

Loki had spent hours preparing the Runed Tonic potion while Dean had sat vigil at his brother's bed. He couldn't wait to be freed of his ungrateful, bossy acquaintance and his comatose moose of a brother. The sooner they parted ways, the sooner he could get on with putting his plan into action.

"It's ready," Lola announced as she entered the room, holding a small bottle filled with a sky-blue liquid.

Before pouring the liquid into Sam's mouth, Loki quickly checked Sam's temperature. The freeze he had put on him was beginning to wear off and once more, Sam's temperature was beginning to rise. Without further adieu and little fanfare, Loki gently parted Sam's lips and poured the potion down his throat. He quickly placed his hand on Sam's forehead and whispered an incantation. As he completed the incantation, he could feel Sam's rising temperature begin to substantially drop. The Runed Tonic had worked.

"Your brother will be fine," Lola stated. "The fever is already starting to drop. He should be awake in a few hours."

Skeptical, Dean walked over to his younger brother and placed his hand on his forehead. Expecting to still feel the warmth he had started to feel again, he was surprised to find that the fever was gone. Confused, he placed his head on his brother's chest to listen for his breathing; that too, had gotten stronger. Finally, Dean allowed the feeling of sweet relief to overtake him. His brother was going to be fine.

With a smile plastered across his face, he turned to face Lola to thank her and give her a hug, offer to take her out for a beer or something of that nature, but found no one standing there.


	8. The Return of the Thin White Duke

_A week later; Lawrence, Kansas…_

Since parting ways Tweedle-Dumb and his comatose brother, Loki had shed his disguise. He was dressed in a sharp suit, instead of his normal leather ensemble that he had worn on Asgard (and, in a way, preferred), his shoulder-length black hair slicked back, accenting his long face and sharp jawline. He needed to fit in with these little, hairless apes as much as possible and not draw too much attention to himself. He knew how closely Asgard watched Midgard. The fun was only about to begin. He had spent the better part of a week holed up in a small hotel room working on his latest concoction. What he had done in New York – that was mischief. That was a bit of fun. This, this was going to be pure mayhem. And he was going to have _a lot_ of fun.

He walked into a local drinking establishment as if he had owned the place. His eyes scanned the crowd; he felt these peons were underdressed in their jeans and plaid flannel shirts. Loki approached the bar, choosing a seat closer to the entrance.

"What can I get for ya?" The bartender asked, looking at Loki as if he were lost.

"I'll have a nice pinot noir," Loki replied. "What brands do you have?"

The bartender looked at him with exasperation. "Does this look like the kind of place that has a wine list, buddy?"

Loki narrowed his eyes at the harried bartender. He scanned the room once more as he contemplated what he wanted instead, noting that this probably wasn't the place to go for a nice glass of wine. "I'll have a whiskey instead," Loki finally answered. "I'll have it neat."

The bartender went off to make his drink and he began to think about how he was going to implement his plan. He had decided Lawrence, Kansas would be the perfect place to put his plan in action. It was a large enough town, but it wasn't too large. There was sizeable transient population, as well, thanks in part to the University of Kansas. Interstate-70 ran through town as well as numerous other US routes that went in various directions. It was the perfect spot – before the tiny fools even knew what was going on, the mayhem would spread across the country with the greatest of ease. Loki grinned semi-maniacally as he took a sip from the tumbler of whiskey the bartender had recently placed in front of him. He knew just how he would get this party started.

* * *

_Lebanon, Kansas…_

Sam had no recollection of the past few weeks. He remembered waking up sporadically, the feeling of death creeping up on him, as the fever continued to rise. He remembered his brother crying out his name a few times, but he didn't remember much else besides a vague, unconfirmed memory that someone else had been with them in the cabin. He had passed out in a cabin somewhere in South Dakota and then woke up in his room in their bunker in Kansas. If his brother hadn't been there when he had finally come to, he would have thought he was in a bad horror film.

Since coming out of his coma, Sam couldn't shake the bad feeling he had. Dean had been mum about how he had gotten better. Whenever Sam had brought it up, his older brother would brush it off – saying he needed to relax and focus on getting his strength up or telling him that he had "just gotten better," if Sam really pressed him about it. He didn't buy it, but he didn't want to push it the first few days. He couldn't let it go for much longer, though. Deciding now was as good of a time as any, he got up from his bed and walked into the bunker's main area, where he found Dean sitting at the table eating a sandwich and drinking a beer.

"What's up?" Dean greeted, before taking a bite from his sandwich. "You hungry? Want me to make you something?"

"No, I'm fine," Sam responded. "Dean, we need to talk…"

Dean sighed heavily between chewing his food, sitting back in his chair. He knew from the tone of Sam's voice that this was going to be one of those long, drawn out discussions that involved deep feelings and would likely lead to an argument and the two of them going radio silent with each other for a few days at the least. "About what?" He finally asked.

"About how I got better," Sam said, taking a seat across from his older brother at the table. "I don't believe I just got better."

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his sandwich back on the plate. It was going to be one of those conversations and those conversations always ruined his appetite. "Well, you did," he stated firmly, but trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Dean, I'm not five anymore. Just tell me the truth."

"I know you're not five anymore, I can _see_ you're not five anymore, and I'm telling you the truth!"

"Bullshit, Dean! I didn't just get better; I was _dying_. I was dying and now I'm better. That didn't just happen. It _couldn't_ have."

Sometimes Dean really hated how smart his little brother was. His intelligence and his research capabilities helped them on numerous cases, but it was a thorn in his side when Sam got a hair across his ass about something. Sam's intelligence and his curiosity meant he just didn't let things go. He was going to ask questions until he got the answers. "Of course it could have!" Dean exclaimed, getting up from his seat and beginning to pace the room. "I mean, half our lives can't be explained! Remember when you let Lucifer out of his cage? Tell me, how did we just end up in that plane?"

"God put us there, remember what Joshua told us when we found him in Heaven?" Sam replied. "So there was an explanation for that. And there's an explanation for this."

Dean glared at Sam. He couldn't keep the truth from his younger brother for much longer. He had held the discussion at bay for long enough. One way or another, Sam was going to find out. Dean knew deep down that if Sam found out on his own, he would be even angrier than he would be if he just told him. Still, he didn't want to.

"Did you sell your soul, Dean?" Sam inquired.

"Not much of it left to sell," Dean scoffed. "And what demon would want to buy it?"

"Good point," Sam said. "Then what, Dean?"

Dean sighed heavily again; rubbing hands down his face. He took a seat and another bite from his sandwich, as he tried to think of what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. Disgusted and no longer hungry, he threw the sandwich back on the plate and shoved the plate aside. He took a sip from his beer to help wash the food down and then began, "Don't judge me Sam. You might not like what I'm about to tell you, but don't you judge me. I couldn't lose you. I wasn't going to lose you."

Sam's heart fell when he heard those words come out of Dean's mouth. A pit formed in his stomach as he prepared himself for what he was going to hear. Given their history, he should be used to it, but it was something he never could get accustomed to. Finally, he simply nodded his head in agreement.

* * *

_Lawrence, Kansas…_

Loki was on his second whiskey. He had his eye on a man wearing a red and black plaid flannel shirt and a trucker's cap. The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties and he had dark brown hair and a full beard. He had his arm around a pretty girl with long blonde hair.

"Barkeep!" Loki called out, putting his index finger up.

The bartender moseyed over to the end of the bar where Loki was sitting and without speaking, waited for Loki to place an order.

"That girl over there, what is she drinking?" Loki asked, indicating the blonde haired woman he had noticed.

The bartender took a glance at her table and then answered, "Looks like a cranberry and vodka."

"Splendid," Loki said, "I'll take one of those."

"You're not planning on starting something, are you?" The bartender asked in a deadpan voice.

"Of course not!" Loki chuckled. "It just looks like an interesting drink."

"It's kind of a 'girly' drink," a patron sitting at a stool nearby interjected, his speech a bit slurred.

Loki didn't respond to the stranger's comment, although it stung a bit. It reminded him of his childhood on Asgard, how he had been teased by the other Asgardian children and later looked down upon. They valued strength on Asgard and they believed magic to be "women's work." All of this led to Loki always feeling like he was on the outside. He wasn't physically imposing like his brother Thor; he used magic where he could to make up for some of his physical limitations. Despite being a capable warrior, he always felt like he didn't belong or like he wasn't as good.

He polished off his whiskey as the bartender placed the cranberry and vodka in front of him, an uncertain look on his face. Loki smiled and gave him a wink. Loki took a deep breath as he watched the bartender walk toward another customer. It was all about to start. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, his excitement growing. He checked his coat's breast pocket for the syringe and then with a grin, he got up from his seat and with the drink in hand, he made his way to the table where the young woman with blonde hair was sitting.

"Pardon me," Loki said. The men and women sitting at the table stopped talking and they all looked at him. He looked directly at the blonde haired woman and continued, "You, Madame, are simply exquisite. I couldn't help but notice you from where I was sitting. I hope you don't mind my buying you a drink."

The woman looked complimented, but unsure, as Loki placed the drink in front of her. Her beau simply glared at him with contempt. "Well, thank-you," she replied meekly, "but I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate me taking it." Her response seemed to mollify her boyfriend, something Loki didn't want.

"Please, take it," he insisted. "It would be such a waste for someone not to drink it and I'm not one for mixed drinks."

"She said she didn't want it," the man said sternly, the anger Loki wanted starting to return. "So how about you buzz off, Wall Street."

Loki didn't understand the reference, although he was certain he had seen the term somewhere. "Does her taking my drink really threaten you? Are you really that insecure? It's a wonder what she sees in you at all, really," Loki stated haughtily.

The man sat up in his chair, no longer relaxed, and glared at him. "Excuse me?" The man hissed. "I'm gonna need you to repeat that."

"Why?" Loki asked, not showing any emotion. "I believe I spoke loud enough the first time I said it. It's not my fault you're too dense to understand what I said and need me to repeat my statement."

The man's eyes widened, filled with rage. His female companion looked afraid, unsure of how to handle the situation. As her boyfriend rose from his seat, she placed a hand on his arm, trying to deflate the situation, but the man simply shrugged it off. He moved in toward Loki, looking him in the eye. The man wasn't quite as tall, but he looked much more muscular. The man didn't understand what he was getting himself into and whom he was really dealing with. "You got an awfully smart mouth for a bean pole," the man growled. "Maybe you don't got the balls to say it again, cause you're afraid of what I'll do to you."

Loki laughed and smiled, meeting the man's eyes. He wasn't afraid of him at all. He had squared off with his brother numerous times and he was a God, there wasn't much this pitiful human could do to him. It took his brother and five others to stop him during his attack on New York. He knew the odds were really in his favor.

"How 'bout you two take that outside," the bartender suggested.

"I'm not afraid of a foolish little rube like _you_," Loki replied, his grin not leaving his face.

With that, the man grabbed Loki by his collar and slammed him against the bar. The women in the bar all screamed in terror and the men sitting nearby all scattered toward the edge of the bar for safety. "Man, you are just _dumb_," the man shouted. "I'm gonna show you what a punk you really are!"

Loki couldn't help but laugh at the man's threats. "Oh, you do that, you pathetic little pissant."

The man's hand formed a fist and he pulled his arm back. He released his punch square on Loki's jaw. However, his punch did not have the effect he had wanted. When his fist met Loki's jaw, the sound of metal being struck was produced, followed by the sound of crunching bone. The man instantly released him and grabbed ahold of his own hand. The man looked at him, petrified. Before the man could escape his grasp, Loki took the man by the side of his neck and swiftly injected his concoction into the man's neck.

The man's body crumpled to the floor upon Loki releasing him. He looked down on the human, watching the body twitch uncontrollably on the floor of the bar. He felt the terrified eyes of the other patrons upon him. He finally looked up; he pulled down on his coat and made eye contact with the terrified bartender. "I guess I lied," he said simply and then turned and walked out of the bar, the shocked patrons making way for him.

Soon. Soon the world as these peasants once knew it would change. Soon their lives would be going down the drain, a drain they had practically been circling since the dawn of their existence. He would sit back and he would enjoy the show; and as the outbreak grows, eventually, Asgard will take notice and they'll get to watch their precious little planet go up in flames.


	9. The Beginning is the End

_A few days later, Lebanon, Kansas…_

Sam walked along the desolate road. He had to get out of the bunker and get some fresh air. He had to get away from his brother. The situation grew awkward between the two after Dean had told him how he had cured him. After everything they had been through, knowing how deals like that had always turned out, Dean had done it once more. _Why didn't he just let it run its course? Maybe I was meant to die. I can't live forever!_ Sam thought, the anger burning in his throat. _I can't wait to see what's in store when the other shoe drops._

Sam pulled open the door of the diner, one of the few in Lebanon and the closest to the bunker. He took a seat at a stool at the counter and ordered himself a coffee. He hadn't eaten much since he had gotten better and his appetite hadn't improved much since he learned of what his brother had done. The news played on the television, a female reporter's voice filling the background.

Sam fought with himself as he contemplated the recent events. On the one hand, he was glad he was alive; but on the other, his brother made a deal with a witch, taking her at her word that she was a "good witch." Perhaps if he had had the chance to actually meet this witch he could form a different opinion. He just couldn't shake the feeling that this was going to turn out like all of those other times. He thought about Castiel and his deal with Crowley. That hadn't turned out well for anyone, with the exception of maybe Crowley, who popped smoke once things weren't going his direction. He thought about Castiel being possessed by all of those Leviathans and what that had ultimately cost them – an unexpected trip to Purgatory for Castiel and Dean and Sam left to fend for himself and make sense of it all alone.

He scowled to himself as he lifted the coffee cup to his lips. Just as he set the cup back on the counter, his eyes caught a glimpse of what the news was showing on the television; his face fell in horror, his eyes widened with shock. Sam's heart began to pound in his chest as he watched military vehicles blockading a city and then footage of that same military blockade being overrun. He watched in fright at what appeared to be a riot in the streets of…Lawrence, Kansas. People randomly chasing each other, the streets gridlocked with unmoving cars. The news cameras surveyed over what looked like a person being dog piled by a horde of other people. Sam thought he was watching scenes from a horror movie.

"Excuse me, miss, can you turn up the volume?" He called out to a random waitress. The woman, who had also been watching the television, nodded her head.

"Government officials are still not sure what is causing this _or_ how to cure it," a woman's voice reported, as scenes of terror looped on the screen. "Officials are asking for people to remain calm and to stay home with their doors and windows locked."

His heart pounded in his chest. The quiet clamor of the small crowd in the diner had gone silent as people stopped their conversations and stopped eating to watch and listen to what was being shown and reported on the television. Sam could feel the fear spreading across the room, the panic beginning to rise.

"Officials warn to avoid anyone infected by this virus," the newswoman continued, "they are extremely violent and dangerous. Common signs include fully black eyes, open wounds, and they make a high-pitched growling noise. Infected people are unable to communicate once the virus fully takes over."

"Croatoan…" Sam whispered to himself, staring at the television screen. Although, something about this seemed different to him, different from what he saw in River Grove, Oregon. He just couldn't yet figure out how it was different.

"Excuse me, sir…" The waitress said, breaking him from his train of thought. "But what did you just say?"

"Uh…" Sam stumbled, looking at the waitress blankly. "Nothing, I didn't say anything."

He gulped down the last of the coffee and threw a few bucks on the counter and quickly made his way out of the diner. He had to get back to the bunker as quickly as he possibly could. He was mad at his brother, but he would have to put his feelings aside for now. Suddenly, he cursed himself for straying so far from the bunker on foot. _I should have just risked getting punched and taken the Impala,_ Sam thought.

Sam was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a blood-curdling scream in the distance. He looked behind him and saw a woman being tackled to the ground in the middle of the road by a team of humans. _Croatoans…_ Sam thought with a gulp. They were about a half-mile away from him. If he played it cool and kept quiet, maybe they wouldn't notice him. He turned and continued walking, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his own head. He noted a pink mountain bike parked in a bike stand in front of a small convenience store. Without hesitation, he pulled it from the rack, kicked the stand back, and hopped on it, riding off. Sam knew he wouldn't be able to outrun those things on foot, not all the way back to the bunker.

"Hey, that's my bike, you asshole!" He heard a woman yell after him as he rode off down the street. He hoped that it didn't attract any of the Croatoans or whatever they were; more for her sake than his.

Sam slowed down a little when he came to a small intersection and peered down the road. He saw two cops under attack by a group of Croatoans. None of the shots they fired from their guns seemed to matter; they just kept attacking. He heard the high-pitched growl the news anchor had described, just as he started to peddle away from the horrific scene he had stumbled upon. _Shit!_ Sam thought in terror, realizing he had been noticed. He hoped that the bike would be fast enough for him to get away from them.

* * *

Dean sat at the table, reading a magazine. When he had gotten up that morning, Sam was nowhere to be found. He hadn't left a note or anything; just left. If his clothes weren't still in their place in his room, Dean would have thought Sam had taken off for good. He had made himself a nice breakfast and decided to take it easy. As he flipped through the pages, he thought about Cas and how they could go about finding him. In fact, he hadn't given much thought to what had happened the night the sky all but fell. He felt terrible, not trying to find his old and trusted friend, but he had to get his brother better first.

Just as Dean found an article he was interested in reading, he heard the door of the bunker burst open, and then slam shut, and the lock turn. He could tell by the panting that it was his little brother returning from wherever it was he had went. Dean opted against a greeting, since Sam had made it quite apparent he didn't want to talk.

"Dean!" Sam yelled between pants. He had barely escaped the grasp of the Croatoans.

Dean didn't acknowledge his brother. He did, however, notice the strange noises outside of the bunker and the pounding on the door. He looked in the direction of the bunker's door in mixed horror and curiosity.

"Dean, listen, something's going on," Sam said, his breath starting to steady.

"What?" Dean asked, begrudgingly.

"I don't know-" Sam began.

"Something's going on, but you don't know? Then how do you know something's going on?" Dean interrupted, not hiding his irritation.

"Just turn on the news!" Sam exclaimed, walking toward their television and turning it on.

Dean followed his brother to the television and watched as the horror unfolded. He slowly took a seat as it all began to sink in. Humans running in fear from other humans, the violence, the reports of people with black eyes trying to eat people. It all sounded hauntingly familiar to him.

"Croatoan," Sam said, breaking the silence.

"Is this what's waiting on the other side of the door for us, Sam?" Dean asked.

"Uh, yeah." Sam answered.

"Could have brought some girls with you if you were going to bring a party," Dean joked, not taking his eyes off the television screen.

"Funny," Sam stated simply, no amusement or sign of appreciation in his voice.

"I don't remember Croates making those high-pitched noises," Dean pointed out.

"They don't seem very zombie-like to me," Sam countered.

"I don't think it really matters what they are, we're fucked," Dean said, getting up from his seat. "I don't care what time it is, it's time for some alcohol."

"Really, Dean? You're going to _drink_?"

"Yes, Sam, I am. The world is going to shit and I need a drink. I might just get shitfaced."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, _that's_ really going to help matters."

"It will for me. I won't pour you a glass, teetotaler. Besides, what can we really do about it? I wonder how many of those things are at our doorstep right now."

Sam just stood there glaring at his older brother. He thought they should be planning what their next step was going to be, what they were going to do. Instead, his brother was talking about getting blitzed.

"Oh, stop giving me the constipated owl face!" Dean exclaimed, irritated. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

* * *

_Lawrence, Kansas…_

Loki sat on the balcony of his nice, cushy hotel room that he had found in Lawrence, watching the madness and mayhem unfold right before his eyes. It was glorious. If the pathetic humans wouldn't kneel before, they certainly would after this. He dropped the last grape from the bowl into his mouth and grinned, enjoying the sounds of shrieks, blood-curdling screams, and gunfire.

He rose from his seat. He was wearing his traditional garb, what he wore on Asgard, sans the cape. It would be the last time for a while that he would have the chance to wear it and to appear as himself before he had to disguise himself once more. It would only be a matter of time before Asgard realized what was happening on Midgard. His plan would work, so long as Asgard believed him to still be in the form of a tree. By the time they would realize it's him, it would be too late. There would be no stopping him. His plan would be too far along to stop.


	10. Living on a Thin Line

_Two weeks later…_

Sam and Dean had left the bunker to search for food and supplies. The Croatoans – or whatever they were – that had been hounding their door had eventually found another target or had lost interest. Either way, they were gone. This had been the first time they had left the bunker since the outbreak had begun. It was an odd mixture of frightening and refreshing for the brothers. They had been dealing with cabin fever, but venturing into an outside world where you could be attacked by an unknown and violent creature was terrifying. It was difficult for them to enjoy the great outdoors when they constantly had to worry about a horde of freaks.

Dean drove the Impala slowly into town. While he loved his car, he cursed how loud the engine was. Before the news stopped broadcasting, they had heard reports that one of the things the creatures were attracted to was sound. This was the first time Dean had ever thought that owning a Prius would have been a good thing – that, and the fantastic gas mileage. That was another downside of his vehicle; it was a real gas-guzzler.

He eased the Impala into an empty parking spot close to the grocery store's front door. He cut the engine and he and Sam climbed out of the car, both taking care in shutting their respective doors as quietly as they could. Sam and Dean both looked around the deserted parking lot, checking for Croatoans or other survivors. A piece of newspaper blew across the parking lot like tumbleweed in the wind, a few abandoned cars in various different states sat in the parking lot. The cars gave Dean an uneasy feeling. _Why are those cars still parked here? Are their owners inside? Are they alive or are they…one of those things?_ He asked himself, a machete in hand.

Dean made eye contact with Sam, nodded his head, and headed for the door. The automatic door didn't open upon their appearing in front of it, something both men were thankful for. They both took a moment to look through the glass into the store, to see if there were any threats inside; both men stealing glances around them to make sure they hadn't been joined by anyone else, living or dead. When they determined the coast was clear, they pried the doors open and headed inside, their hearts pounding in their chest.

Loki had sought refuge in that very same grocery store. He had disguised himself as a teenage boy as he left Lawrence. He didn't have to worry about being attacked by one of his own creations; he was immune to them and their disease. He just had to disguise himself to hide from his brother and the rest of Asgard; and who would give a ride to him in his traditional garb? He could have easily teleported himself to his present location, but driving through the wreckage seemed so much more fun. His last ride had gotten him as far as Lebanon when he was suddenly attacked by one of his creations – much to his delight.

He had heard the roar of a car engine pull into the grocery store's parking lot. Carefully, Loki peered out the window from his position in the back of the store. He saw a car that looked very familiar to him and once he caught sight of the driver, he was pleasantly surprised that his little friend had survived so far. Quickly, Loki morphed into his past disguise as the beautiful and svelte woman that Dean had first met.

"Let's get in, get what we need, and get out of here," Dean whispered. "I'll take this aisle, you go down that one."

"Maybe we should stick together," Sam suggested.

"This store isn't that big."

Dean made his way down an aisle, looking for something, anything, to eat that was still good. Canned food, boxed food, MREs, anything. He saw a few stray cans strewn around on the shelf and started to examine them, throwing the good ones in his backpack and leaving the bad ones behind. In between his hunt for supplies, he kept an ever-watchful eye out for any changes or new people. He turned to start heading toward the back of the store when a figure caught his eye. Dean jumped and let out a sound of fright.

Realizing who it was, Dean instantly relaxed a bit. "You scared _the shit_ out of me!" He exclaimed in a loud whisper. He could hear Sam's footsteps running toward them.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, his weapon raised, a look of uncertainty on his face.

"It's ok, Sammy," Dean said. "…I know her."

The look of uncertainty on Sam's face was replaced by a look that was part confusion, part repulsion. He had a pretty good idea of who she was – that witch that his brother had dealt with, that witch that had saved his life.

"It's that witch, isn't it?" Sam asked with a sneer.

Dean looked at his obstinate little brother with exasperation. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to; Sam was quite adept at reading his body language.

"My name is Lola. You're welcome," Lola said, finally breaking her silence and glaring at Sam. "You two sure could learn a lesson in gratitude. I trust you're well?"

"As well as one can be during the apocalypse," Sam snapped.

"Interesting seeing you here, Lola," Dean stated, firmness in his voice. He thought they had a deal – she would scram once she worked her magic and made Sam better. He hadn't counted on seeing her ever again. Then again, he wasn't counting on the world going down the tubes, either. "What brings you back to town? Or did you ever leave?"

"I was in Lawrence when this all happened," she began, "I was all alone. I didn't know what to do and we all know what happens to the 'rugged loner' in this scenario. You're the only person I know and thought I could trust, Dean."

He didn't look as though he was buying it. Dean Winchester had one hell of a poker face, as far as Loki could tell. He knew he had to sell it just right. Even though he didn't need protection from the monstrous creatures of his design, he needed the protection from Asgard.

"I know we were _supposed_ to go our separate ways after I cured your brother," she continued, "but when this broke out, I didn't know what to do. I can't go back to my family; you know that. My sister will kill me if she finds out I'm no longer a tree."

Dean sighed heavily. He found himself in quite a tough spot. He looked at his brother, who was still standing behind Lola, and caught his glare. He knew he couldn't make this decision without Sam being on board, but he didn't like the idea of just leaving her on her own because she was a witch.

"I need to talk this over with my brother," he finally said. He motioned with his head for Sam to follow him.

Loki watched as the brothers went down the aisle and toward the front of the store. He felt that Dean would accept him back into the fold, however uneasily. He suspected that it was Sam that was preventing this from happening. He watched the two brothers having what appeared to be a heated discussion. Loki read Sam's body language and it appeared he was resisting to the idea of letting him join with them. Carefully, Loki began to control Sam's mind – just a bit. Just enough to ensure Sam would eventually capitulate without Dean – or Sam himself – ever realizing what had transpired.

After a few minutes of tense discussion, Dean and Sam returned to their acquaintance. Both Winchesters appeared annoyed, their irritation for different reasons.

"All right, you can join us," Dean said, his voice stern. "But any funky business and you're not going to have to worry about us kicking you to the curb. You'll have to worry about something worse."

Lola simply nodded her head in agreement. Loki didn't feel like overdoing it. He decided appearing docile and frightened by the idea of "something worse" just the right touch.

"We need to stock up on supplies. Any food, batteries, candles – anything you think would be useful, grab," Dean ordered, as brushed by Lola quickly, continuing on in his mission.

Loki found an errant shopping basket and began throwing what looked to be useful in it. When he was certain neither Winchester was looking at him, he smiled to himself. His plan had worked.


	11. If We Never Go Outside

_A few days later…_

Tension filled the small group of survivors. The Winchester brothers had hardly said a word since they left the store and neither had so much as acknowledged the presence of their new companion, beyond seeing if she wanted anything to eat or drink. This, however, did not bother Loki all that much. The less that was said, the better it was for him. There were less lies to keep track of, less of a chance that he may reveal something he hadn't intended to. That had been a mistake he had made when he had tried to take over Midgard last time.

"I can't get any stations," Dean announced with frustration, turning the television off. "Not even an emergency broadcast message. Nothing."

"Is it really that surprising, Dean?" Sam replied, not even looking up from the book he had been reading. "We wouldn't even have power if it weren't for the generator."

"Maybe there will be something on the radio," Dean said, turning it on and fumbling with the dial.

"_Please remain indoors with your doors locked-_" A man's voice stated before Dean switched the channel.

Dean slowly turned the dial, hoping to find a station that was still operating or sending a message out. He rolled through stations and stations of static or the same emergency broadcast warning people to stay indoors and to avoid contact with the infected.

"_We have gotten reports that you should shoot them in the head, if you shoot them in the head, they die,_" another voice reported.

"Anyone who has watched a zombie flick knows that, asshole!" Dean muttered.

He scrolled through the stations, finding mostly static and one where a preacher condemned the world for its sins and told anyone who was listening that this was God's punishment for their debaucherous lives and ways. Dean rolled his eyes and shut the radio off.

"Well, that was pointless," he said.

"A bit of an exercise in futility, yes," Lola agreed. Both Sam and Dean shot her an irritated look. She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her thoughts. _At least the two bumbling dolts agree on something,_ Loki thought with mild irritation, being careful not to let it show on his disguised face.

Loki carefully watched his hosts. Dean had his head in his hands; Sam was still nose-deep in a book. He was growing a bit bored just twiddling his thumbs. He sighed, breaking the silence that had crept over the group. This act elicited another irritated look from the Winchester brothers. He glared back at them, shrugging his presently feminine shoulders. _Can I not even make a sound?_ Loki thought to himself, wanting to send a lightning bolt crashing down upon the two.

"So what is our plan?" Lola asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Survive," Dean answered, not even lifting his head from his hands.

"Well, we have to do something other than just _sit_ here!" She said.

"Like what? Do you have any ideas? A secret plan to save the world?"

_Yes, actually, I do…_ Loki said to himself, although it probably wasn't what his new friends or any other survivors had in mind. "…No," was the answer that left his lips.

"Ok, then."

The Winchester brothers had stopped the world from going over the edge on more than one occasion. Usually, when a world-ending event came along, they had had some warning. They had been able to do _something_ to stop it. This time, however, it had just hit them like a ton of bricks. There were no spikes in demon activity, no signs of a new and terrifying race of monsters walking the planet, no evidence of a Heavenly or Hellish plot. There was nothing. They had no idea if this was a result of the angels falling from the sky or if the demons were wreaking havoc upon the mortal realm because of their attempts to close the gates for good. _This is different,_ Dean thought to himself. _This doesn't smell like demon and it doesn't feel like the work of Heaven._

"You know, there is something we could do…" Sam stated, nose out of the book.

Dean and Loki both looked at him, waiting to hear what his suggestion was. Loki noted Sam looked uncomfortable and it seemed that discomfort had stemmed from his presence. He didn't care.

"We could look for Cas," Sam continued, his voice sounding a bit awkward.

"Who is Cas?" Lola asked.

"An old friend," Dean answered. "Sam…" His face had been overcome by the look of uncertainty. Loki had gathered from that look that Dean was not too thrilled with the idea of leaving the bunker.

"Dean, he's _our friend!_" Sam exclaimed. "We can't just _leave_ him out there. Think about all he has done for us. …I can't believe _I'm_ the one who's suggesting it!"

"It's not that I don't want to find him," Dean replied. "It's just a matter if we _can_. We don't even know if he's on Earth! He could still be in Heaven for all we know. The last I saw him, that's where he went. Now, unless you want to have _yet another_ near death experience to go running around Heaven, we're just going to have to hope for the best."

"We watched the angels fall from the sky, Dean!" Sam countered. It was one of the few memories he had from when he was sick.

"Ok. Well, where do we begin to look? I called him, Sam. I prayed to him, I called the old cell phone number – and I got nothing. So if he's out there, I have no idea where he is or where to look."

Sam didn't respond. He just looked at Dean in irritation.

Dean continued, "Don't get me wrong, Sammy, I care about Cas and I am grateful for all he's done for us. But I just don't see how we can find him, if he's even still alive, and I really don't want to become Captain Crunch for those…_things_ out there!"

Again, Sam didn't respond, just rolling his eyes and shaking his head. This wasn't the first time they had left Castiel, but this time was different. The last time they had left him, he at least had _someone_ watching over him – even if that someone a demon known to them as Meg.

"Can I say something?" Lola interjected, her voice meek. The two brothers looked at her, not saying a word. "We can't stay here forever. We'll run out of food-"

"Then we'll go into town and get more," Dean interrupted.

Lola sucked in air, irritated at having been interrupted – especially with such a thoughtless reply. "The _town_ will run out of food," she continued, glaring at Dean. "We'll have to go further and further to get supplies until staying here is no longer a viable option. Not to mention, that generator isn't powered by the air that surrounds it. I imagine this place won't be as tolerable in the dark."

"Candles," Dean replied.

"Dean," Sam said, looking at his older brother. "She has a point."

"You don't even know Cas!" Dean exclaimed; throwing a hand up in the air and then letting it fall back onto the table.

_Did his mother have any children that lived?_ Loki thought to himself angrily. "I'm not saying we dedicate a mission solely to finding this fellow, whoever he is," she said. "Perhaps we could go to the place where you saw him last and maybe we'll run across him. If not, then we can at least say we tried. Eventually, our hand will be forced and we'll have to go out into the world anyway."

"So why don't we just wait until that time comes?" Dean argued. "Right now, we have shelter, we have a safe place. We have food, we have water, we have blankets – we have everything we need. Out there, it's gonna be another story. Shelter will be an issue, a place to keep our food will be an issue, staying warm will be an issue, water will be an issue."

Loki hated to admit that Dean made a good point. While the virus had no effect on him whatsoever, he knew his human friends could easily succumb to it – and many other things. It wasn't that he cared about them, but they were necessary at the moment. Should his brother come to Earth in search of him, he would stand out less in the company of others than if he were to be alone. That is, if Thor and the rest of Asgard were even aware he was no longer a tree. Loki was certain they knew about the present situation, but they may not know – at least he hoped – who caused it.

"Good point," Lola said sounding defeated. She looked at Sam and shrugged her shoulders. He pushed his lips together and nodded his head in return. It was the first sign of kindness he had shown her since they had met.

Just as soon as the heated discussion had started, it ended. Loki found himself once more with nothing to do. He rose from his seat and went to their library. He was saddened by the fact that he would be stuck in this bunker for a while, unable to further enjoy the fruits of his labor as the world continued to deteriorate further and further.

* * *

Loki was sitting in the library area of the bunker, enjoying a good book on necromancy. He had kept an eye on the Winchester brothers between turning pages. Sam was still at the table, reading another book and Dean had retired to his room. Nothing had been said since the heated discussion they had had a few hours ago.

Suddenly, the lights in the bunker went out; a strange mechanical noise sounding, signaling the drastic change in their circumstances. A moment later, crashing was heard coming from the hallway, as Dean made his way to the main area.

"Dammit, the generator must have ran out of gas," Dean announced as he entered the room. "I'm gonna go out and check on it."

"Dean, are you nuts? It's dark out there!" Sam exclaimed, pausing before he lit the next candle.

"We have to do _something_ about it," Dean replied.

"We're going to have to get used to living in darkness," Lola interjected, still sitting in the chair in the library area.

"She has a point," Sam agreed, staring at his brother. "Do we even have any fuel to fill it with?"

"Yeah, actually, we do," Dean answered. "We have one fuel can left."

"Maybe we should save that for the Impala, unless you like the idea of traveling into town on foot. And what if we have to leave? Then what? I doubt we're going to find an open gas station."

Dean didn't reply. He just looked at his brother and let out a heavy sigh. He knew Sam was right - as was Lola. He'd have to adjust to living a life of simplicity, a live without all the creature comforts they had grown up with. _God, I hope we have enough toilet paper…_ He thought to himself, remembering the time the angel Zachariah had zapped him into the post-apocalyptic future.

"This sucks!" Dean exclaimed out of nowhere, throwing himself into a seat at the table. "Maybe I should check the radio again…"

"Why? So they can tell us what we already know?" Lola responded sarcastically. "Or listen to some pompous ass tell us we're being punished for our sinful ways?"

"Oh, I don't know – maybe there's _new information_ being broadcasted?" Dean replied, testily. He made his way to where the radio was and went through the spiel of rolling through the various stations, checking both AM and FM broadcasts. However, nothing new was being reported. The only difference was the preaching of the fanatic was replaced by the terrifying sounds of growling and screeching – the very sound the things made.

With another heavy sigh, Dean shut the radio off. "Nothing."

"At least we won't have to hear that zealot anymore," Lola said simply. Loki could not make out the facial expressions of the Winchester brothers, but he could sense the disgusted looks he was getting from the pair. "What?" She added, shrugging her shoulders.

"I'm going to bed," Sam announced. "There's no point sitting in the dark."

"Me too," Dean said, rising from his seat. Dean turned on the flashlight that had been sitting near the radio as Sam blew out the candles. Loki rose from his seat and followed the brothers out of the main area of the bunker.

_Note: Sorry this took so long for me to write. I experienced a little bout of writer's block._


	12. Worlds Apart

_Asgard…_

The situation on Asgard was tense as there was some discord between father and son in regards to the situation on Midgard. Thor had changed a lot over the years. He was no longer the rash and selfish prince he once was. Still, he couldn't believe his father had no plan to do something – anything – about the current situation. They had intervened on Midgard's behalf a few times over the millennia to defend it against intruders – the Jotuns and another time more recently when his own brother launched an attack of his own. Why Odin wasn't making any effort to aid Midgard in one of its most dire times was something Thor couldn't understand. Odin had ordered the Bitfrost to be closed and to not allow anyone out of or into Asgard – no matter what realm they were coming from.

Thor had another reason to despair beyond his father's lack of action. During his banishment, he had met an intelligent Midgardian woman named Jane Foster. He had not seen her since his being accepted back into Asgard. He yearned to see her again, hoped she was still alive in the midst of all the madness, prayed she hadn't succumbed to whatever was plaguing her realm. Thor wanted nothing more than to see her once more and hold her in his arms. He wanted to apologize for not making an effort to see her, wanted to explain what had prevented him from returning to her as he had promised.

Then there was Loki. Stuck on Midgard in the form of a tree. Though much had transpired between the two since his banishment, he still loved his brother – even if his brother didn't return the sentiment. Despite all Loki had done, Thor still believed that he shouldn't be left to rot on a realm in the midst of an apocalyptic event in the form of a tree. Surely _something_ could be done for his brother.

The more Thor thought about it, however, the more he found himself wondering if Loki was still in the form of a tree. He wondered if his brother had managed to be freed. He openly shuddered at the thought of the mischievous God being the one behind Midgard's troubles again. It was certainly possible – he could no longer put anything past his brother.

There was only one way to find out. Thor would have to make the trip to Midgard and seek the God of Mischief out himself. This would be no easy task. Though he was a prince and next in line for the throne of Asgard, there would be no way that Heimdall would let him use the Bitfrost – not when the Allfather had so expressly forbidden it. He knew there were other ways; he just had to figure out what they were. His father had used dark magic the last time he went to Midgard when the Bitfrost was broken. There were likely other ways to get out and into Asgard without being seen, but he did not know of them. He was certain Loki knew, but his brother had never shared with him these different, secret routes. Nor had he asked about them.

This was a mission Thor would have to go on alone. He could not ask the Warriors Three and Lady Sif to join him. He was disobeying his father. Though this wasn't the first time he had disobeyed him, this time it may not only be him who was punished. He could not ask his friends to join him on this mission.

Suddenly, he wished Loki were here. His brother had always been good for a plan; something Thor had never given him much credit for back then. He wished for the days of old when they would play together and when they fought together on the same side. It bothered him that they were no at odds, that Loki hated him with such passion.

Thor was truly on his own this time.


	13. Big Man With a Gun

_Lebanon, Kansas; Midgard…_

The Impala drove slowly down the desolate, destroyed street. There wasn't a living soul in sight, not even an animal. The car was quiet, but filled with an uneasy tension. Each person was alert, keeping an eye out for any signs of activity – be it other survivors or Freaks, as they had come to call them. They were all tired from lack of sleep, their dreams interrupted by the wretched screeches of the Freaks as they passed by the bunker in droves. Each time, the trio would find themselves huddled with their weapons in the bunker's main area, quietly anticipating an attack. They would retire to their rooms after an hour had passed without an attack happening.

Dean looked at the Impala's gas gauge, the needle hovering at the halfway point. In times past, this wouldn't have been that big of a concern. Now, it offered him little comfort. He looked in the review mirror, quickly checking to see if anything was going on behind him; there was nothing. He glanced at their beautiful companion, Lola. He found her emerald green eyes to be mesmerizing, her hair long and silky. Dean stole a moment to daydream about sleeping with her, what being with her in bed would be like. _I bet she's a freak,_ Dean thought to himself.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Sam calling out his name, his voice fraught with fear. Dean snapped out of it just in time to see a man holding a shotgun standing in the middle of the road and slammed on his breaks. Without thinking, he threw the car in reverse and backed up, trying to put some distance between them and this survivor. As he braked, preparing to put the car in drive and turn it around, the man put up his arms as if he were surrendering, the shotgun still in one hand.

"What should we do?" Dean asked, his heart pounding from the shock.

"We should leave him where he stands," Lola suggested.

Sam hesitated for a moment, watching as the man slowly progressed toward the Impala. "I don't know, Dean, maybe he needs help…" He said limply.

"Or he could be a crazed bandit who wants to take us for all we got," Dean replied. _I should have just hauled ass out of here,_ he thought, scolding himself, as he watched the man close in on their vehicle.

Dean grabbed his own shotgun and exited the vehicle, ensuring the weapon was visible as he did so. He left the car door open, not only for protection, but if he needed to make a hasty getaway. From the corner of his eye, Dean watched as Sam grabbed a handgun and held it in hand on his lap.

"That's a mighty fine car you got there," the man complimented. "I used to have a nice little Mustang, myself."

"Thanks," Dean replied, curtly. He didn't bother to acknowledge the man's quip about his old Mustang, not wanting to get into idle banter about classic cars in the middle of the road during what appeared to be the End Times.

He watched as the man surveyed his vehicle. His intuition telling him there was something wrong with this situation and that it wasn't going to end well. Who would get the bad ending, however, was up for grabs.

"It don't appear like you're livin' in your car," the man finally said. "You got a safe place to stay? Help a man like me out?"

"No, this is all we have," Dean answered. He wasn't about to invite this man and God knew who else back to the bunker.

"Aw, c'mon now, I know you're pullin' my leg. You and your buddy there and that sweet young thing in the backseat look clean as a whistle. If you didn't have a place to stay, you'd be dirtier."

"We bathed in a lake."

"Ok, so you don't want to help me out, I understand. Say, why don't you let me get a taste of that fine pussy you got sittin' in the backseat? I can take her round back behind one of these stores and have a good time with her real quick and then we can both be on our separate ways."

"That's not happening," Dean replied, his voice filled with anger.

"You might want to be nicer to a guy with a gun," the man said, pulling on the pump.

"You might want to be nicer to a guy with two guns," Dean stated, pointing out what he felt was obvious.

"Who says I'm alone?" The man retorted.

Loki sat in the backseat of the Impala, listening to the tense exchange. When he heard the man suggest he may not be alone, he quickly looked around the area, looking for his group. He couldn't see anyone, but the man may not have been lying. He quickly formulated a plan. If anyone were going to kill the two goons he was with, it would be him. He'd be damned if some peasant was going to steal his thunder. He calmly slid over to the driver's side and exited the vehicle. If this guy wanted to have a good time with him, then he was going to show him what his idea of a good time was.

"It's ok," Lola said.

Dean didn't say anything, just quickly looked at her, an eyebrow raised, before looking back at the man.

"Well, c'mon then!" The man exclaimed. The middle-aged man seemed happy to find someone to sleep with him.

Loki walked toward the man and then began to follow him toward a small store across the street from where the Impala sat idling. When he felt the time was right and the man wasn't paying enough attention, he pulled out his knife and quickly thrust it into the center of the man's abdomen. Loki stabbed the man multiple times. The man fell to his knees, his free hand grasping at his rotund stomach. The shotgun dropped to the ground, sending a deadly spray toward the store; the blast echoing.

"I guess you and I have different ideas of what a 'good time' is," Loki said, whispering in his ear. Quickly and effortlessly, he slit the man's throat.

Not long after the life left the stranger's body did they here a chorus of wretched, blood curdling screeching. It was the last sound any survivor – save for Loki – wanted to hear.

"_Goddamnit!_" Dean exclaimed, watching as a horde of Freaks came running around the corner, a mere two blocks from the Impala's rear.

Loki dove into the car's backseat as Dean quickly climbed into the driver's seat, throwing the vehicle in drive. As he peeled away from their impending doom, a shot hit the ground nearby. Dean took a right turn quickly, when another horde of Freaks came running at the car from an adjoining street.

"Real smart, letting that shotgun drop!" Dean shouted angrily. "You could've planned that a little differently."

"Well, I'm sorry, I wasn't _anticipating_ being accosted by some assailant when I woke up this morning!" Lola replied firmly.

An uneasy silence took over the group as Dean navigated the streets of the small town, the raging herd still on their tail. He took another right, hoping to make it back to the bunker, but found the way blocked by a small jam caused by an accident. Without hesitation, he threw the Impala into reverse and back into drive once back on their previous route. He noted the crowd of Freaks was closing in on them from the rear view mirror.

"This isn't going as expected," Sam noted quietly, his voice was calm but filled with nerves.

"No shit!" Dean hissed. "I just hope we can make it back to the bunker without a trail of freaks and some pissed off survivors."

"If we even can," Sam said simply.

The statement, though true, fell on the group like an anvil. The idea that they would be thrust into this world without any provisions, other than what they had with them in the car, too horrible to even contemplate.

"Yeah, well, we'll try," Dean replied, resolute.

* * *

_Hours later…_

Night had fallen. They had lost the horde that had been chasing them long ago. However, the group found themselves in a desperate situation, as they weren't able to make it back to the bunker. Worse, they had no idea where they were, they were hungry, they were cold, and they were low on gas.

They sat in silence in the Impala, which they had backed down a small dirt path that lead to a little clearing in the wooded area. The last time they had spoken was when they had first found the little spot; they had debated whether they should try to build a fire or just stay in the car. They ultimately opted to stay in the car, despite the fact that they had to keep it off to conserve gas. While there were plenty of things to build a fire with and they had plenty of lighter fluid and lighters, no one wanted to take the chance of being surrounded by those Freaks. At least in the car, they could drive away; they stood a fighting chance at surviving.

Loki sat in the backseat, his legs stretched across the leather seat. They had agreed that one person should remain awake to stand guard for other survivors or for Freaks. They had played an unusual game that he did not understand in order to determine who would be first and apparently, he had lost to both. As he sat awake and alert, he felt as though he were stuffed in a sardine tin, the passenger and driver seats both reclined and both of his new friends were of the taller stature. If he weren't disguised as a small woman at the moment, not even a car of this size would be able to comfortably hold the three.

He sat wide awake, listening to leaves rustle in the light breeze and to the heavy breaths of his two sleeping companions. It was going to be a long night.


End file.
